


Glimpses of Belonging

by flightinflame



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Branding, Dirk Gently Angst, M/M, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Colonel Riggins said he wasn't meant to think about Outside any more. That means Mister Priest is going to take the mark on his wrist away, before he's ever allowed to see the name there.





	Glimpses of Belonging

"Svlad?" Colonel Riggins called out, knocking on the door before pushing it open.

Svlad rolled over on his bed so that he was facing the blank wall, staring at it angrily. The thing was, he wasn't entirely sure what was happening, only that he knew he wasn't meant to be here. He was meant to be out. He'd been helping people, when he was Outside, and Colonel Riggins said he wasn't meant to think about Outside any more.

He wondered if Colonel Riggins knew that saying not to think about something made you think of it. Like if someone told you not to think of a talking dog, you'd think of a talking dog.   
"Svlad?" Riggins asked, and the bed sunk slightly under his weight. He reached out, ruffling Svlad's hair. "Are you okay?"

"There won't be anyone to find the lost dogs," Svlad muttered, half to himself. It was an old argument, but one that bothered him more than anything else. The tests worked, and he couldn't do them - he couldn't remember the last time he'd got an answer right, and given normally there were four answers. The hardest test had six possible options, so he had a one in six chance of getting it right the first time, an eleven in thirty six time the second time, a ninety one in two hundred and sixteen chance the third, a six hundred and seventy one in one thousand two hundred and ninety six by the fourth - by the ninth attempt there was an 80% chance he would get one right. And he had done the test thousands of times. 

"The lost dogs will get found anyway," Riggins promised him, and, exasperated, Svlad rolled so that he was facing him. Riggins rested his hand on the cuff that was over Svlad's wrist, and moved it for a second - Svlad saw a black mark, but not the words. Then the cover was replaced, and Riggins sighed.  
"Growing up," he murmured, half to himself.

Svlad looked up at him.  
"I don't want to see Mister Priest," he said, as firmly as he could. "Mister Priest is a bad man. He kills people, and killing people is wrong."

Riggins sighed, and pulled out a packet of sweets from his pocket, placing it under Svlad's pillow.  
"You can come and see Project Moloch after?" Riggins said. "I'm sure he'd like to see you. You can talk to him for an hour..."

Svlad bit his lip. He wanted to stay curled up on his bed, only that wouldn't work, because the alarm would go and experiments would be starting. So he would have to go out, even if he didn't want to.

He slipped off of the bed, heading through to shower in his bathroom, and Riggins went to wait outside. He let himself have a sweet as he went, and pocketed one in case Moloch was hungry.

Riggins greeted him with a nod, and he sighed, scratching at the band around his wrist.  
"You won't need to wear it any more," Riggins promised, and Svlad nodded. 

He followed the Colonel down the corridors, listing off the names of the projects he passed. One day, he wanted to leave, so he had to know where the way out was. Phoenix, Golem, Cerberus, Moloch - he waved at that door even if Moloch couldn't see it, Griffin, Incubus. There was shouting from there as he approached.  
"I can smell you boy," came the voice. Svlad had never actually seen Incubus, but they sounded like adults. They were dangerous, so he wasn't allowed to meet them. "You're scared-"  
"Incubus, leave him alone." Riggins ordered, and there was a cacophony of laughter from within. Svlad wrapped his arms around himself, hurrying along, and the voice echoed after him.  
"Don't you let'm take it from you boy, you see it, you remember it, you hear me boy?"

He glanced at the Colonel for advice, and Riggins squeezed his shoulder.  
"Don't you worry about them Svlad," Riggins ordered. Svlad nodded. He wasn't worried about Incubus, not compared to Mister Priest.  
"Will you stay?" he asked, his voice soft. Riggins nodded, leading him to the room Mister Priest was waiting in. 

It was a room sometimes used for the experiments. Mister Priest smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, like Riggins. It was a smile that belonged to something different, like a crocodile or a snake if a crocodile or snake could smile.  
"I hear you had your name come through Svlad Cjelli, well don't you worry, I can fix that right up." He gestured for Svlad to sit, and he did, holding out his arm.  
"Really I could just not look at it there isn't any need for any of this-" Svlad spoke quickly, until a glare from Mister Priest made him fall silent. 

Mister Priest gripped his arm, bending it towards him, and removed the cuff. Svlad tried to glance out of the corner of his eye without being noticed.

He saw a cross at the front, almost certainly the letter T, and the second word was long, a series of bounces - it ended in an m or several ns. Mister Priest waved a knife in front of his eyes.  
"You look, and I can just take the whole thing off Svlad Cjelli," 

He looked away, to where Riggins was waiting. He heard them both make a note of it, and then the pain began - sharp as a knife to start with, then fading to a steady thrum of the tattoo. He didn't cry out. There would be no one coming.

Eventually, Mister Priest let go of his arm.  
"Take care, Svlad Cjelli. And if you are thinking of escape, then please, go ahead. You were fun to bring in the first time."

Svlad hurried back to Riggins's side, glancing at the symbol tattooed on his skin, still streaked with his own blood, marking him as a Blackwing experiment.  
"You take the day off from tests today Svlad," Riggins told him. "I'm sure Moloch would like you to tell him about your adventures."

**********

Todd Brotzmann was a Possible. Dirk had lost count of the number of Possibles he had encountered in the past fifteen years, never daring to stay. Tracy Callumn, Thomas Darlton, Te Haringmanana, Ted Lameilnon, all found and discounted. All with their Actual known, or else with another name written on them.

Todd Brotzmann was a Possible. But Dirk had learned not to allow himself to put too much thought into that. Right now, there was a Case, a task he had been asked to solve, and he tried not think about the fact that future-him had been followed by a future-Todd. Because even though it seemed like it was a Case, it meant something. He had run into his future (or maybe it was his past now, he certainly thought he'd managed to reach the end of every loop he knew about) self several times, and always had been alone. This time, he had a Possible with him, and he couldn't help hoping. He fidgeted with the cuff of his jacket, chosen because it covered the brand.

Todd looked over at him, seeming to notice his discomfort. Todd, like a lot of young people, wore a dark bracelet over it - they hadn't found their Actual yet, but they weren't shouting it to the world. Todd had given Dirk a strange look when he had introduced himself, but that didn't matter. Lots of people gave Dirk strange looks when they met him. Then they either left or ended up dead, so really it seemed that looking strangely at Dirk was bad for your health, and really it was hardly like he came out the worst in their confrontations, given that they were all going to die and he was just treated a bit unkindly.

Dirk wished that he had some control over who was dead. He had heard one of the other projects had - that she had caused chaos to erupt, the chaos that had given him back his freedom to roam the country and reunite lost pets with their owners, and try to work out who he really was. If he had a choice in who was dead, then Mister Priest would be dead. But his powers didn't work like that, just like they didn't let him work out how to get the right answer - six years and not one dice roll correct.

Todd was looking at him strangely still, and Dirk grinned, climbing in through the window and holding out his hand.  
"I said I'm Dirk, Dirk Gently."

Todd looked startled, and he expected the yelling to start. Todd was doing the squishy face thing that normally preceded yelling. When Todd spoke, his voice was surprisingly quiet and non-shouty.  
"I need to see your wrist," Todd told him. He hesitated.  
"No you don't." 

It wasn't possible. Todd might have been his Possible, but Dirk Gently couldn't be on Todd's wrist. 

Mister Priest had told him once, when he had tried to argue, to go on strike and not press any buttons or touch any wires, that he'd put a bullet through his Actual's head.

Dirk remembered being sick after that. He didn't remember much else about that day. A few days later, he remembered being sat in a chair by Moloch, with some candy on the table beside him.

He rolled back his sleeve, revealing the brand he tried not to look at. He couldn't look directly at it, instead watching the emotions that played across Todd's face.

Todd lifted his own arm, and undid the cuff.   
Two words were there: 'Dirk Gently'.

Dirk smiled shyly, and Todd cleared his throat.  
"You know, the weirdest thing that happened to me before..... before today, was when I was fourteen, and a man with a gun dragged me into a van and asked me if I'd ever heard of Svlad Cjelli."

Dirk leaned in, and embraced him tightly.  
"I can promise you, things are about to get a whole lot weirder."


End file.
